I left Pierre before dawn Christmas morning, beginning my ping-pong holiday journey to the east coast: Pierre to Watertown to Minneapolis to Detroit to Philadelphia. All of my flights arrived in their destinations early, so my concerns about the short connection times were alleviated.
Even though I moved away seven and half years ago, descending into the airport with a view of the Center City skyline still gave me a feeling of "home." This remained the case even with the recent completion of the Comcast Center, now the tallest building in the city, surpassing One Liberty Place.
I arrived in Philly after 3:00 p.m., picked up my car, and headed south on 95 into Delaware. I could have driven blindfolded. (It's comforting to know I can be away for so long and not have the place where I grew up change. Well, besides the Phillies winning World Series.) True to my intention, I arrived at my parents' house just as Christmas dinner was about to be served. Good thing too because I'd only had a couple of Pop Tarts and a Clif Bar since 5:15 a.m.
It was still daylight out when I arrived, which I thought would eliminate the element of surprise. I put on the Santa Claus hat I had bought the previous night in Pierre, walked up to the front door, and rang the doorbell. My dad answered and... just looked at me. He didn't even recognize me. Granted, I had the hat on, I was a bit scruffy, he hadn't seen me in two years, and wasn't expecting me. But still!
The funniest part was even though he didn't know who the hell I was, he still let me in the house. So, I walk in, standing just inside the front door. All three of my siblings are sitting on the couch, craning their necks to see who just walked in. They all stared for one, two seconds, and then, "Oh my god!"
So, the three of them all run up and give me a hug. My mom and grandmom then come in from the kitchen to see what all the commotion is about. It's only then my father finally gives me a hug. Dad, come on!
My sister's two boys were also there. They claimed to know who I was, even though I'd only seen them just once before. The eldest was in a grim reaper costume.
We sat down to dinner. I was asked who I voted for in the presidential election. Obama, duh. Dad actually voted for him too. Or, as he put it, "I voted for Biden and Obama just so happened to be on the ticket." Whatever. A vote's a vote. My grandmother, on the other hand, called Obama a socialist twice before the gravy got cold.
After dinner, presents were opened, and the happy family watched The Bucket List. The Cleavers ain't got nothin' on us, let me tell ya.
Friday, four of us went to breakfast, and then my sister accompanied me when I stopped by to see my hairdresser. I started going to her when I was just a kid; my dad and brother still see her. She squeezed me in for a much-needed haircut. (I don't think there's anywhere in Mission to get a haircut. It sounds like, though, there are folks here who "do hair.")
After Sis and I walked the mall and Barnes and Noble, I was off to my grandmom's. She treated me to lunch at Booth's Corner, followed by tea, cookies, and Judge Judy at her place.
Saturday, I headed over to Jersey to see a long-time friend. After brunch (I had scrapple - yum), we people-watched at the Cherry Hill Mall. And then that night, the family went to a neighbor's Italian restaurant in Wilmington, where an unexpected family reunion took place. I hadn't seen my great aunt (who is also my godmother) in, I don't know, 20 years. She had told Mom she wanted to see me specifically the next time I was in town. I had had only one memory of being at her family's house when I was a kid. Whatever had come between my mother and grant aunt had evidently been reconciled. My surprise turned into a surprise for me.
I was up at 3:30 a.m. the next morning to head back to the airport. My trip was over and it had turned out even better than I could have hoped. My flights back to South Dakota were just as uneventful as those three days earlier. I was back in Mission by sunset, in bed before 9:00 p.m., and back to work the next morning, almost as if I had never been gone.
Almost.
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